


Doctor, Doctor

by jaegermighty



Series: ravioli, ravioli, won't you be my husbandioli [2]
Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: F/M, Facebook, Meet My Embarrassing Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegermighty/pseuds/jaegermighty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I just want to announce," Liv says again, as loudly as possible, "that I am still definitely not pregnant."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor, Doctor

So sophomore year of college, Liv and Peyton knew this girl named Nikki Alonzo who dropped out at midterms to marry her boyfriend, whose name was Blister. Presumably this was not his real name, but nobody knew his real name because the whole thing was pretty mysterious and random and kind of worrying, so Liv and Peyton and the rest of their judgmental friend group had no choice but to follow the example set by his Facebook profile. 

Nikki was kind of a strange girl - there were a lot of strange ones, at their school, med programs are breeding grounds for 'em - but that was the strangest thing she ever did, beating out even the time she tried to convince everyone she was the reincarnated version of Marie Curie. She hacked all her hair off and pierced her bellybutton and sold her Prius to help pay for she and Blister's honeymoon to Nepal, and the last Liv heard they were still there, roaming around hiking up mountains and blogging about yoga and running a Kickstarter for their roommate's folk band. She's fairly sure they're trying for kids, too. Liv vaguely remembers a conversation with Peyton about what kind of weird hippie thing they'd name it. 

At age nineteen it had seemed so clear to her - at age nineteen, a lot of things had been. Liv, the alive version, had had very clear ideas about many things, up to and including her opinions on folk bands and Nepal and grown men who called themselves "Blister." At age nineteen, Liv had thought: "she's going to regret it" and "but she was getting such good grades!" and "God, he's not even that cute." At age nineteen Liv had sat at a chic bistro with her friends and laughed loudly and meanly about the sad, sad state of Nikki Alonzo's life, smugly thinking about how some people just didn't _get it,_ how girls like that deserve what they get for throwing their lives away for no good reasons. 

At age twenty-five plus one more post-mortem, Liv has now realized that she used to be kind of a jerk. "That's not so bad," Ravi tells her, "when I was nineteen, I moved to America and didn't tell my parents for six months. Now _that's_ a jerk move," and Liv doesn't really think that's exactly the same thing considering she what she knows about the complex state of the Chakrabarti family, but she appreciates his efforts regardless. 

"Well, you wanted to know why Peyton keeps calling you 'Blister,' and now you know," Liv says, really very much wanting not to talk about this anymore, "so I really very much want to not talk about this anymore."

"Suit yourself," Ravi says, seemingly satisfied by the explanation. "We should make this a habit, Liv. A nightly occasion, of emotional bonding and support. I feel quite close to you right now, you know."

"Is that maybe because we're lying in bed together?" Liv asks, extremely aware of how close his biceps are. 

"Don't make it weird," Ravi says, and pokes her thigh with his foot. Liv sighs. Way too late for that.

 

 

"This is nothing like Nikki Alonzo," Liv tries to argue, for the millionth time. Peyton makes a deeply skeptical noise, violently tossing her salad and glaring at the universe, "you _know_ Ravi - everyone knows Ravi! He's friendly and handsome and rich and has excellent taste in both music and personal wardrobe - "

"Why did you include 'rich' in that list?" Peyton asks, eyes narrow. "Is that really - don't tell me that's part of why - "

" _No_! I just - I thought..."

"Oh," Peyton says, getting it, and glares even harder. "Thanks a lot. Glad to know what you think of me, I guess."

"Sorry," Liv says miserably. She's so bad at everything sometimes. "I'm just saying - or I'm trying to say, he's a good guy, is all."

Peyton sighs, finally ending the torture of her lunch and popping open the lid. The salad looks so distressed that it's actually kind of unappetizing. "I know he's a good guy, Liv, obviously he's a decent guy with a job and a car and all that - that's not the point."

'What is the point?' hovers right behind Liv's lips, but it'd be almost insulting at this point to say it. She knows the point. Peyton knows the point. Everyone knows the point, so Liv chooses the truth instead. "You just...you don't have to worry about me. I'm okay. This is what I want."

"I don't know if you're aware of this," Peyton says, kind of sad and a little tired, "but when it comes to how much I worry about you, you don't really get a say. No offense."

"I kind of think I should, though," Liv says.

"Well, tough," Peyton says shortly, and offers her a bruised tomato from her salad. Liv chomps it down obediently and wishes for sriracha; it's like chewing on solid air.

 

 

Liv takes his name. Her excuse is either that she's sick of his jokes about the pun in hers, or that it makes the Skype calls with his parents a little less hostile, depending on who she's talking to. Then Clive asks, and Liv tells him she lost a bet. 

"You bet your maiden name?" Clive asks, giving her that look like he's wondering what planet she came from and how good the chances are that she'll give him a grand tour. "On what?" 

"The Redskins game," Liv says sheepishly. This is a lie - what they'd actually bet on the Redskins game was who would get to decorate the bathroom, but Ravi has an innate ability to roll seamlessly with whatever bullshit Liv spreads around about anything, so she's not worried about fudging the details a bit. At this point she's fairly certain he thinks it's fun. "Well, I couldn't decide! And Ravi wasn't helping, all he'd say was 'whatever you want, Liv,' and 'it's your decision Liv,' so I just, you know - "

Clive's just laughing, snorting gracelessly into a mug of coffee. Behind him, that guy from Robbery who hates them is giving him a disdainful look, so Liv bares her teeth at him until he looks away. "Were you for or against?"

"For," Liv says, and Clive makes a 'yikes' face. "I know. Stupid." She doesn't actually have much of an opinion on the Redskins other than that their name is in serious poor taste, but Ravi is surprisingly passionate about football and she'd been feeling contrary that night, so. Sooner or later, he'll stop throwing curveballs at her like that. She hopes. "Anyway, I've got all this paperwork to do now. I never actually realized how many things involve, you know. Your name." She grimaces. "They invalidated my ID card at the morgue already too, and they won't issue a replacement until my payroll stuff is done, and I can't do _that_ until I get my new Social Security card which won't be for another week at least, and Ravi's in court until who knows how late with that tyrant Hoburn in charge of cross and I hate the government _so much_ \- "

"And here I thought you just wanted the pleasure of my company," Clive says, but he's still laughing, leaning back in his chair and pulling at his suspenders like a mall Santa Claus. 

"You are very charming, Detective Babineaux, but I am a married woman now," Liv tells him. "So I'm going to have to ask you to stop flirting with me, thank you very kindly."

"Fine," Clive says. "Can I still flirt with your husband?"

"Sure," Liv says, and shrugs, and Clive nods very seriously, his grin trembling with silent laughter. Liv smiles back and feels accomplished. "Look the point is, Ravi forgot to leave me his card and my temp stopped working again so I was hoooooooping - "

"And the real motive emerges," Clive says, throwing up his hands. "Well, Mrs. Chakrabarti - "

" _Doctor_ Chakrabarti," Liv says, outraged.

"You can't both be Dr. Chakrabarti, that's just confusing."

"Well you're not calling me Mrs. Dr.," Liv says.

"Liv," Clive says definitively, rolling his eyes, "I'll come with you to swipe you in if you spring for lunch, how's that for a trade?" 

"Acceptable."

"Great, and you can tell me about how mad your mom got about it on the way," Clive says cheerfully. "Did she cry this time?"

"Only a little; it was mostly just incoherent yelling," Liv admits. "Evan filmed part of it and put it on Vine."

"Nice," Clive says, and holds the door open for her. He's a good friend, Liv thinks. Way better than Liv was to Nikki Alonzo. 

 

 

"Mrs. Dr. Chakrabarti," Ravi says, skeptically, chopping jalapenos at the kitchen counter. "Sounds very...elderly. Like an old bint who wanders around the neighborhood in a housecoat, stealing flowers from people's windowboxes."

"What's a housecoat?" Liv asks.

"You're wearing one," Ravi says slowly, in his 'Americans are so tiring' tone. 

"This is a robe!" Liv cries. "It's functional, not elderly!"

"Liv, please. It's _paisley_ ," Ravi says. "Anyway, most people call us by our given names anyway, so I don't see why it matters."

"The Drs. Chakrabarti," Liv says, snorting a little. "Dr. and Dr. Chakrabarti, _esquire_."

"We are neither lawyers nor knights, so the title hardly applies."

"Do you have like a family crest or something?" Liv asks curiously. "Are you in line for the throne at all?"

"Are you?" Ravi asks dryly. 

"My great grandparents had dinner with FDR once." Liv steals a pepper, licking her finger to pick up the stray seeds on the cutting board. "He stopped at their diner on his way to a campaign stop in Spokane."

"Did he give them a crest?" Ravi asks, still dry as bone, and Liv grins. He's just so _British._

"No but he autographed their menu. Mom has it framed in the upstairs hallway. Along with the recipe for the pork beans that he ate."

"Well my mother met Prince Charles at the races once, so I suppose between the two of us, we're on the list to inherit _something,_ " Ravi says. "I wonder what the rules are about a dead woman assuming the throne?"

"Zombie Dr. Chakrabarti!" Liv seizes, delighted by this new avenue of possibilities. "Undead Dr. Chakrabarti. Un-Dr. Chakrabarti. Mrs. Un-Dr. - "

"Please shut up," Ravi says, tossing another jalapeno at her. Liv happily chomps half of it in a single bite.

 

 

The real motive emerges: Liv gets her new checkbook in the mail and stares at the name and address heading for a solid five minutes, touching it the same way she used to caress the little name tag they gave her when she started her residency before she went to bed each night like the nerd she was. She'd gone for simplicity, forgoing titles altogether: Olivia Chakrabarti, #1G 405 Torence Rd. The checks have the Seattle skyline on them; Ravi's pick. Her driver's license came last week, and every time she opens her wallet, her heart jumps. Even their junk mail is getting into the spirit: Mr. and Mrs. Chakrabarti, check out our hot deals on wireless internet. Dr. and Mrs. Chakrabarti, here's a free gym pass to welcome you to the neighborhood. Olivia and Ravi Chakrabarti, you may prequalify for an FHA loan, see this website for more information on this exciting new program.

When she got engaged to Major, she'd tried very hard to be excited about the prospect of living the rest of her life as Liv Lilywhite, to the point of near obsession. Major had put in an equal amount of effort trying to convince her to keep her own - "seriously Liv, I don't even like my damn name. It's awful. It's just an awful fucking name. No, don't argue with me, okay, I know my own pain." - but she'd been determined to get used to it, determined to coax herself into liking it. Truthfully, it was - look, it's a tradition, right? Liv likes traditions. There's something very...proprietary about it, but not in a way that bothered her. She used to think, _it's a declaration. You change who you are, so you can start something new._

Ravi had looked at her carefully when she'd told him, rubbing at his beard like an old man. She'd tried to make it into a joke but it didn't work; that never worked, with Ravi.

"Of course I don't mind," he'd said. "We are married, after all, maybe not in every way, but - in most ways. Won't it be a pain to change back, though? When we're finished?"

Liv had just shrugged. "It's," she said, "I just." She shrugged helplessly. "My dad would have, um," she finally said, unable to take it any further, watching miserably as something soft and kind shifted into place on his face. 

"Well," Ravi said gently, "We'd best get started on the paperwork, then."

 

 

Ravi's sister visits in May and instantly loathes Liv on sight. They have a miserable dinner at a wine bar in Capitol Hill, during which it becomes clear that most of the Chakrabarti family is under the impression that Ravi has knocked Liv up. 

("It's not like either of you are being particularly subtle about it," Anisha says scathingly. " _Wal-Mart?_ Please, Ravi, I know a cry for help when I see one.")

She also accuses Liv of being in some sort of vampire fetish cult, which Liv doesn't really get angry about because...well. Ravi does, though, and rushes Liv out of the bar in an offended huff, spending the next two weeks stewing in sullen anger and trading increasingly insulting subtweets back and forth with Anisha. 

"I mean, she has a point," Liv attempts, at the beginning of week three, "I am very, very pale. It's weird."

"You're dead," Ravi says flatly. "Your heart does not beat, your blood does not circulate, and therefore your skin tissue is deprived of oxygen. That is not your fault nor your choice, and making fun of your appearance because she's angry I didn't include her in the wedding is just downright juvenile."

"Not that I'm not very touched by the impassioned defense, Rav, but she doesn't exactly know any of that - "

"Can you believe she told my grandparents that you're an atheist?!" Ravi exclaims. "To just blatantly _lie_ \- not that it'd be a dealbreaker or anything if you were, of course, but 'lapsed Catholic' would go over far better, not that we have much hope of convincing them you're anything but a Godless heathen _now_ \- "

Liv sighs and leaves him to his outrage, wandering off to put up some more pointed full-body pictures on Facebook, because Anisha's not the only one who thinks the wedding was of the shotgun variety. Her aunts keep sending her pregnancy advice, and they're really patronizing about it, too. At least she's finally convinced her mother. She's pretty sure.

In June, Major comes over to watch YouTube videos of something called E3 with Ravi, which is some kind of video game party that Liv doesn't give a shit about. It's the first time she's talked to him, really, since the excruciating conversation when Ravi had moved out, which Liv doesn't really remember clearly since she'd immediately gotten as drunk as possible as soon as it was over. He looks good, though. 

"This is awk, right?" he says, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen like he's trying to look cool, but clearly is painfully aware that he's really bad at it. 

"Did you just say 'awk'?" Liv asks, blinking up at him. 

"What - do people not say that?" Major asks. "Because I was assured by several eighteen-year-olds that people totally say that."

"Didn't we agree that you should double check all your lingo with Ray before working it into the rotation?" Liv asks, amused.

"Ah, yeah, well," Major says, suddenly awkward for real, "Ray left a few months ago. Got a job in Tacoma."

"Oh," Liv says, startled. Of course, she thinks. It's been - well, it's been awhile. "That's cool."

"Yeah." 

Liv stares at the wall right over his shoulder; Major taps his knuckles against his leg. In the living room, Ravi starts yelling at the TV, oblivious. 

"Look," Liv starts, at the same time that Major goes, "Liv, listen, I don't - " and it's absurd enough that they both laugh uncomfortably, like every bad cliche from the teen drama shows they used to marathon together. "This is so Gossip Girl," Major says, and Liv laughs for real, leaning her weight against the fridge, her chest tight. 

"I'm sorry," she starts, "this is weird, I'm sorry - "

"No," Major says, shaking his head and looking determined. "No." He reaches out for her hand, tentatively, and Liv gives it to him. "C'mon. Let's just power through it, okay?" 

"Okay," Liv says, and follows him out. It ends up being a good night, even if she doesn't care about the video games. Major pays for the pizza and teases them about their twee decorations. "It's like Pinterest threw up in here," he says. Ravi and Liv do a fairly good job of pretending to be offended.

Also in June: Liv eats the brain of a serial killer and starts having trouble sleeping again; Ravi buys her a nightlight, of all things, and wakes up every few hours, reaching over in bed and touching her arm lightly, letting her know he's there. A few weeks later they close a big case and Clive gets promoted to "Detective Sergeant," which is a bizarre title, but apparently comes with a pay raise, and with the added benefit that the Captain stops double checking all his paperwork, so they celebrate with expensive cocktails and a pub quiz. The three of them name their team "Doctor Doctor Goose," which is horrible and embarrassing, but Clive wanted "Space Ghost Squad," and didn't get why they didn't get it, and Ravi refused to hear any option except "The Nancy Drewists," which didn't even make sense, so she just wrote down the first thing that came to mind and turned it in before either of them could grab the paper from her.

They live together and it works, mostly. It's a good existence - she can't call it a life, because that word isn't for her anymore, technically, but she's starting to come around to the idea. She goes to work and she comes home, she tries her best with Peyton and endures her mother. Evan starts hanging out on weekends, mostly because of Ravi's gaming system, but he lets Liv fuss over him and answers all her neurotic questions about his homework and his friends, so she calls it an improvement. Ravi works on the cure. Liv does another one of Libby's podcasts. They sleep in the same bed and share the same name, but other than that, nothing at all has changed. 

They don't really talk about it. 

 

 

"We should go," Ravi says. 

"We should not," Liv replies, and tries to throw the invitation away. Ravi snatches it out of her hands before she has a chance. " _Ra_ vi!" 

"It's your mother's birthday," he says, infuriatingly reasonable. "And don't give me any rubbish about how you just want to spare _me_ the experience; you know very well that if we don't attend I'm the one she'll blame."

"I could tell her I'm sick," Liv offers.

"Which is code in Eva's mind for 'pregnant,'" Ravi says. Liv starts to protest, then realizes that he's right. "Can you even get pregnant, by the way? We should do some tests."

"God," Liv mutters. "Listen, it's gonna be horrible. We'll have to dress up. And make small talk."

"I'm quite good at small talk," Ravi says. 

"Well, I'm not!"

"I know," Ravi says sympathetically. "But it's _your_ family. Just - ask them about their kids, or their jobs, or something. If you get them rambling about something, it gets easier from there."

"We skipped your dad's award thing," Liv says - well, whines, really, but her Aunt Donna will probably be there, and Liv once made herself puke in the bathroom of a rest stop to get out of being in the same room with Aunt Donna, so whining is nothing. "Why can't we skip this?"

"Because she's your _mother_ ," Ravi says, the imploring eyes out in full force. "And unlike my father, she lives ten minutes away from us _and_ is in possession of my phone number."

"I keep telling you, you could just change carriers, it'd probably be easier."

"Liv," Ravi says, but what he actually means is: _you know I'm right and you might as well admit it now because if you don't go you're going to feel guilty and horrible and spend the weekend eating ice cream in your yoga pants and hogging the TV so can we please skip to the end of this bloody conversation already._

"Fine," Liv snaps, and takes the invitation back. She actually has to RSVP for this thing, Christ on a cracker. "It's going to be a disaster, though. Just FYI."

"That's just fine, I can handle it," Ravi tells her. "I used to work for the CDC, you see."

 

 

The day before the party Liv puts up a picture of she and Ravi at a bar with Peyton and her new boyfriend, who is in the Air Force and named Gregory, but prefers to be called by his call sign, which is "Dirtdice." Apparently there's an absolutely hilarious story there, but Peyton jabs the poor guy in the leg with her fork every time he tries to tell it. 

(Ravi hears it eventually, apparently when Liv and Peyton are in the bathroom. "It's somewhat classified," he tells Liv later, "and frankly, after hearing it, I still prefer 'Blister.'")

The idea is that the prominence of their tequila shots in the photo would take care of any lingering rumours, but judging by the comment Aunt Heather leaves - "OLIVIA YOU LOOK VERY NICE IN THAT DRESS YOU WEREN'T DRINKING THOUGH WERE YOU THAT'S VERY BAD FOR THE BABY TELL YOUR MOTHER I'M SORRY I CAN'T MAKE IT TOMORROW AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE TO EVERYONE XOXO HEATHER" - it's not a particularly successful plan. 

"At least _you_ guys know I'm not pregnant," Liv announces to the table, then has a sudden attack of paranoia. "Guys - you know I'm not pregnant, right? _Guys_ \- "

Peyton covers her mouth with one hand, clearly trying not to snort tequila out of her nose, and Dirtdice assumes an expression of neutral blankness, patting her briskly on the back. 

"She's not pregnant," Ravi says absently, used to being her backup on this by now. 

"Trust me, I know," Peyton says, once she's recovered. "I mean, you'd definitely be showing by now if you were."

Liv decides to take that as a gesture of support. "Thank you!"

"You know, this same kinda thing happened to my cousin right after she got married," Dirtdice offers. "She was acting pretty pregnant, though."

"How does one 'act pregnant'?" Peyton snaps, shooting Liv a look of profound 'can you believe this idiot' irritation, which is one of the many reasons Liv knows that she's really, really into this guy. "Did she, what, waddle around with her hands on her back, complaining loudly about her swollen feet?"

"Well, pretty much, yeah," Dirtdice replies with a shrug. "Turns out she had sciatica."

"Now _there's_ a good excuse Liv," Ravi says, nudging her with his elbow. Liv doesn't dare to look at him - she'll start laughing if she does. "We'll just tell dear Aunt Donna that we eloped abruptly because of your nerve pain."

"Or you could just say you swept her off her feet," Peyton says, and Liv jerks over to look at her in surprise. "Violently passionate, undeniable love at first sight. The second you met her eyes over a rotting corpse, you knew you had to have her."

"Dear God," Liv says, choking laughter into her drink. Ravi's shoulders start to shake silently. 

"Sounds like it'd make a killer novel," Dirtdice says, saluting them both with his drink. "The Heart of the Mortician."

"No, no, _The Devotion_ of the Mortician," Peyton says. "Much better."

"I hate you guys," Liv says, as Ravi's stoicism collapses and he starts to laugh along. "I really do."

Peyton snaps another picture, this one of Liv's scowl, with her phone. "I'm gonna start an album for tonight, I think," she says. "I'll call it 'Liv's Not Pregnant 2015.'"

"Make sure to tag her in it," Ravi says, eliciting Peyton's most evil grin, and Liv thinks, _well, okay, now this is progress._

 

 

("He's good in bed, right?" Peyton asks, slurring only slightly as they wait in line for the next club. "C'moooooon, you can tell me. C'mon. He's tall, big hands - "

"Peyton!" Liv says, embarrassed about being embarrassed. 

"Well, don't tell me you just up and married somebody who's only _okay_ at it," Peyton says with a scoff.

Liv looks over her shoulder at Ravi and Dirtdice, who are talking intensely about something involving cars a few feet away. All their dressy clothes are at the cleaners', so he's wearing just this plain t-shirt that Liv has definitely worn to sleep before. She remembers what it smells like, the way it rode up her stomach as she tossed and turned in the night. She always wakes up before he does, but sometimes she pretends to still be asleep so she doesn't have to get out of bed. She's not proud of it, but she remembers Wal-Mart, and she still hasn't told him. Her cheeks feel warm.

"I knew it," Peyton says smugly, squeezing her waist. Liv swallows and looks at the ground and tries not to think about it.)

 

 

Liv doesn't get hangovers anymore but Ravi does, which means they're a bit late to the dinner party. "At least pretend," Ravi asks, which Liv does without complaint - anything else would blow the Liv's Not Pregnant Because Look At All This Tequila plan, anyway. 

Evan accosts them the moment they step through the door, eyes wild. "Aunt Donna," he says, gripping Liv's arm with desperate fingers. "Aunt Donna. She. Aunt Donna - "

"What is it, Lassie? Did she fall down the well?" Liv asks, and Ravi smacks her arm lightly. He's smiled at the joke though, she saw it. 

Evan scowls. "There's literally nothing stopping me from waltzing in there and just announcing you're in a family way, you know," he says. "Is that a hangover or morning sickness? You never knoooow - "

"Shut up, what is it," Liv says. "She didn't bring her new husband, did she? What's his name, Bill, Brad - "

"Brent, and yeah he's here somewhere, but she also brought _Margaret,_ " Evan says, and Liv's stomach sinks. "She dyed her hair like, bright red, it looks hideous, and I think it made her evil Liv, I really do. It brought her closer to Satan. Like, emotionally."

"My God," Liv breathes, "we're doomed."

"Who is Margaret?" Ravi asks them both, looking blank and faintly concerned - more for their mental stability than any of their physical safety, which Liv knows is only because he hasn't actually met Margaret yet. "Another aunt?"

"Sort of, well, no, not really," Liv says, while Evan glances nervously over his shoulder, checking for threats. "She used to be married to Jason, who is Mom's cousin by marriage, so I guess she was our...step cousin once removed, or...something. But they got divorced and then she married Phil, who is our step-grandfather's neighbor, but then he had a stroke and died so then she started dating Tom - you know, Mom's lawyer? - and I guess they had a kid, but we've never met him because she says we're a bad influence."

"What," Ravi says.

"You still have time to bail, dude," Evan says helpfully. "I'll tell everyone you left Liv for someone really, _really_ hot."

Ravi smacks him, the same way he'd smacked Liv. "Get off it, Evan, this is clearly a crisis situation."

"No shit," Liv hisses, "look Rav, if we run we can make it to the highway before anyone notices we're gone; they'll think we were mugged in the driveway and leave us for dead - "

"No, no, no, that'll never work, Uncle Robbie brought his Dobermans," Evan says. "How about we just hide in the attic until everyone finishes eating and gets drunk enough, and then if anyone asks where we were we'll just be like 'what are you talking about, we've been here the whole time!' Then we just leave."

Liv nods thoughtfully; that idea has some promise, but Ravi's shaking his head at both of them. "Listen to you two, honestly! You're being ridiculous."

"No, Ravi, you don't understand," Evan rushes to say, "this woman is basically Voldemort, okay - "

"Of course, of course, that's not what I meant - we can't get to the attic without going through the kitchen, is what I meant, and you know Eva will be in there. And did you forget that you're supposed to help Lara with the cake, Liv? She'll never let you live that down."

"Shit," Liv says, deflating. Evan visibly does the same. "Shit, he's right."

"Clearly, there's only one viable option available to us," Ravi says, sensibly. "But you're not going to like it, Liv."

Liv blinks at him, then after a moment, she gets it. "Oh _no_ ," she says. 

"It seems," Ravi says slowly, his grave tone belied by the shit-eating grin spreading across his face, "that the Mortician will need enough Devotion for _two_ instead of just one - not that it will be any trouble, of course, as he has more than enough Devotion to go around - "

"No, I _hate_ you, no," Liv says, and Evan blinks at both of them and asks, "are you both already drunk?"

"Well, I don't see you coming up with anything smarter and anyway, it'll be a good enough reason to duck out early."

"Holy shit, that's genius," Evan breathes. "Mom and Donna'll be all over us, Margaret won't be able to get close - " 

"The lesser of two evils," Ravi says wisely, nodding.

"You want me to lie to my mother on her birthday _and_ deliberately lead on her hopes about grandchildren," Liv says flatly. "That is so _mean_ , Ravi, seriously - "

"We don't have to _lie,_ " Ravi cuts in. "Evan can go in and make some bad joke about morning sickness, that's all it'll take. We'll still tell them the truth, but we already know they don't believe us anyway, so why not take advantage of it?"

Liv groans. "Man, this is gonna set me back _months_ ," she says in dismay. "Also we're all going to hell. I hope you guys know."

Ravi slides one palm behind her back, patting her shoulder blade consolingly. "We'll tell them it was sciatica later."

 

 

Their zany plan goes off fairly well, even if Liv does feel sort of ridiculous walking around with her hands on her lower back for most of the night. Ravi sticks by her side like glue - partly for their cover, partly because Eva looks about ready to commit son-in-lawicide if he so much as looks at her the wrong way. 

Plus, every time Margaret makes a move to approach, he'll lean over and say loudly, "do you want another glass of club soda, darling?" or "how are your feet doing, my dove?" and that's usually when Aunt Donna - or Uncle Robbie, who is surprisingly teary-eyed about the whole thing - will sweep in and start offering Liv foot rubs. 

"Just wanna announce, I'm really not pregnant," Liv says, every once in awhile, just for her own conscience's sake. Nobody really listens to her. 

The only real road bump comes after dinner, while Eva having a private solo wine tasting at the wet bar and the aunts are discussing their various medical ailments - apparently Jan has arthritis and Donna's hernia is flaring up again - and the new husband Brent, looks up and says, "say, what kind of name is Major, anyway?"

It takes Liv a few minutes to parse that, and Ravi is obviously totally lost. "Sorry?"

Donna's hands flutter up around her face nervously. "Brent - his name is Ravi. He's from India."

"The UK," Liv corrects automatically, feelings Ravi's shoulders stiffen at her side as he understands what's happening here. Across the room, Evan winces dramatically and hides his face in his DS. 

"I thought Liv was marrying some guy named Major," Brent says stubbornly, because he is apparently very dumb and Liv would like him to be dead, in this moment, "the wedding invitation is still on our fridge, I know I read it right - "

"Major and Liv are no longer together," Eva calls from across the room. She seems to be addressing her wine glass. "Liv and Ravi have been married for just a few months, now. They eloped."

"Very romantic," Jan says desperately, and Margaret, of course, snorts and says, "that's one way of putting it - "

"Hey, Mom, give Margaret some more wine," Evan says quickly, and okay, Evan can live. He's a good kid. 

Donna still looks nervous; she is a nervous sort of person. It's why Liv has always disliked her so much - talking to her is like being covered in soggy, wet paper. "It's admirable, I really think, that Liv would - well better to bite the bullet now than wake up in twenty years and realize - no offense, Eva, of course, I just - "

"So the baby is this guy's?" Brent asks. 

"Bloody hell," Ravi mutters, under his breath. Liv looks over at her mother, who is talking lowly with Margaret, which cannot mean anything good. "No, Liv isn't pregnant - she's having some unfortunate nerve pain tonight, you understand - "

"Nerve pain!" Uncle Robbie exclaims from the couch, joining the conversation. "You better get that checked out honey, small problems can get big during a pregnancy - hey Jan, tell them about that weird neck thing you had when you were pregnant with Violet - "

"I didn't have a weird neck thing," Jan snaps, glaring at the entire room. Next to her, Brent mumbles something about beer and ambles to his feet, toward the kitchen, and she watches him go in disgust. "The girl says she has nerve pain then she has nerve pain, let's not make a mother out of her yet! For God's sake."

"Brent," Donna calls, rising to her feet to waft after her husband, "Brent, wait, remember we're not staying tonight - "

"I just want to announce," Liv says again, as loudly as possible, "that I am still definitely not pregnant."

"See?" Jan says. "What she said."

"Well of course she's not pregnant, look at her, she looks practically dead. Too sick to be pregnant," Margaret says briskly, and that's it. That's it. 

Liv is standing before she's even consciously aware of it, and for a long, elongated second she's not sure what the hell she's going to do. Then Ravi stands too, one hand placed cautiously on the small of her back, and Liv remembers herself, and pushes the fog back. 

"I'm tired and I'm going to leave now," she says, and the room falls quiet. "Happy Birthday, Mom, I'll call you in the morning. Good to see everyone. Goodbye."

Eva, for the first time tonight, looks her in the eye, clearly taken aback. "Sweetheart," she begins, but Liv is already grabbing her purse, walking away, Ravi a step behind. As she reaches the door she hears Jan say, "just leave her be, Eva," and Uncle Robbie saying something about chronic fatigue, and then they're in the foyer, and they're almost free. 

"Liv," Ravi says, sounding concerned, and she stops to breathe for a second, look up at his worried face and smile. 

"It's fine, I'm fine, it's just, you know," she says, and he smiles crookedly as she laughs, "it's the sciatica, you know. A real bitch - "

"Ah yes. Aunt Sciatica who has dyed her hair red, to bring herself closer to Satan."

Liv laughs again, fiercely glad that he's here with her, on this ridiculous night. He helped make it ridiculous, of course, but she doesn't mind. She really doesn't. 

"Let's get outta here," Liv says. 

"Anything for you, my dove," Ravi replies. 

 

 

Sometimes Ravi tells her: "what happened to you was not your fault. You didn't do anything but go to a party. It was an act of violence that made you like this, and you did what you had to survive. You have a right to survive, Liv. You have a right to be different, and you have a right to be damaged."

Clive says to her: "you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's - you know, sometimes, I think I'm going nuts? Connecting dots that aren't there? But other times, it's like...I can't not see it. But you still don't have to tell me. I trust you, and that's that. I've got your back, and you've got mine, and that's all I need to know."

Peyton says: "I love you. I love you so much it hurts and God, Liv, I - I know I don't always react well, I know I don't always say the right thing - I don't know what the fuck to say, half the time. How fucked is that, a lawyer who never knows what to say? To her best fucking friend? But I don't. I hope I'm doing this right, but - let's just keep working at it, okay? Because I fucking love you. I love you so much."

Evan says: "sometimes you scare me, but in a good way. It's kind of cool. It's like you're evolving, or something. Like a pokemon."

Major says: "just be happy. Do that for me. Put yourself first, please. Please put yourself first. I know you're bad at that, but just try. Try, for me."

Ravi says: "let's just go home, alright? Let's just go home and get some sleep."

Ravi said: "let's do something stupid."

Ravi said: "when we're finished."

(Liv has nightmares about that last one.)

 

 

Liv wakes up first and makes coffee. She checks Facebook while it's brewing and laughs herself sick over the aunt-war that's happening in the comment section of Peyton's Liv's Not Pregnant 2015 album.

 _i never should've let ur fing family friend me,_ Peyton texts. _my notifs are a mess_

Liv sends back some sad-looking emojis, to which Peyton responds: _fake bitch,_ and then a picture of Dirtdice and Ravi from the other night, wearing each other's coats. _look at these idiots_

 _do you call him dirtdice in bed?_ Liv asks her, and laughs herself sick again at the ragey response.

Ravi wanders in towards the end of their emoji fight, sneaks a look over her shoulder and sighs dramatically. "Tell that Ms. Peyton Charles that she owes me fifteen dollars for that cab ride," he says imperiously, and pours himself some coffee. 

"If you're planning on trying to out-cheap my best friend, I'm obligated as your Wal-Mart wife to warn you that you'll definitely lose," Liv says.

Ravi fixes her a cup at the same time that he makes his, doctoring hers with some blended brain and a healthy dash of chili pepper. It sounds totally gross, but it actually sorta tastes like chai. To Liv, anyway. "Collecting on a debt is not cheap, but if that's the way you wish to characterize it - "

Liv loses the last half of his rant to her brain-chili-coffee. It really does taste like chai. Maybe it's like a placebo thing. She doesn't want to say anything about it Ravi though, because he'll want to do tests. "Rav, trust me, she'll pay you back. She's got a ledger."

"A ledger?"

Liv nods. Peyton really does keep a ledger. It's bright red and Liv helped her decorate the cover in twelfth grade. "But if you badger her then she'll get stubborn about it and do something really annoying, like pay you in a sequence of pennies over the course of an entire month, or something. She did that to me once."

"Noted." Ravi joins her at the kitchen counter, leaning over his own phone. His hair is mussed from sleep, and Liv sees his wedding ring - fifty-nine ninety-nine, Wal-Mart, of course - glinting in the morning sun. It's Saturday, so they don't have work, unless Clive calls with a case. He'll probably spend most of the day catching up on the pile of journals sitting on their nightstand, and Liv will clean. And deal with her mother, probably. The longer she waits on that fallout, the worse it'll get. "Hungry?" 

"Nah." She won't really need to eat for a couple weeks yet, and the brain-coffee will put it off even more. "You?" He shrugs. The moment is quiet, lovely. Stretched out with no end, a simple morning with simple feelings. "Ravi."

"Yes?"

I love you, Liv thinks. It's thrilling just to articulate it, even in her head. "My dad would've liked you a lot. That's why I changed my name."

Ravi smiles, full of sunlight. "Anisha likes you too. She just won't admit it for awhile."

"Well," Liv says after a second, the edges of her vision going blurry. "I'll do my best to help that along."

"No need," Ravi says, bumping her shoulder with his own. "I've got that covered for you."

Yeah, Liv thinks. Yeah.


End file.
